


Unholy Ghost

by within_a_dream



Category: Sins of the Cities Series - K. J. Charles
Genre: Ghosts, Haunted Houses, M/M, Post-Canon, Strangulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25413187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/within_a_dream/pseuds/within_a_dream
Summary: One last foray into Justin's past at the request of a credulous man offering a large reward gives Justin and Nathaniel more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Justin Lazarus/Nathaniel Roy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5
Collections: Multifandom Horror Exchange (2020)





	Unholy Ghost

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aunt_zelda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/gifts).



> Thanks to telm_393 for betaing!

Nathaniel hadn’t planned on setting foot in a church again. He certainly hadn’t planned on walking into an abandoned medieval chapel with his lover in order to investigate a haunting. He hadn’t expected Justin to take the offer – he’d left his past behind gladly, and only returned to his medium tricks when he and Nathaniel were alone. But when a man from Justin’s past somehow found him to offer this job, Justin accepted.

"It’s more money than I see in a year," Justin had said, looking at Nathaniel like he expected a fight. Nathaniel knew better than to tell Justin that he didn’t need the money, that if he were ever short, he could rely on Nathaniel. No, that wouldn’t have gone over well at all.

Instead, he nodded. "One condition: I come with you."

Justin laughed. "You’re going to protect me, then?"

Nathaniel pressed a kiss to his neck and murmured, "You never know what nefarious priests might be lurking in the shadows, ready to steal your virtue." 

"I’m not sharing the money."

"I fight off an army of nefarious priests for you, and you can’t even give me a day’s wages? Poor form, Justin."

Justin leaned in and bit Nathaniel’s lower lip. "You’ll have to do more than that to earn your share," he said, and Nathaniel proceeded to do his very best to meet Justin’s standards.

Justin had researched the chapel. Nothing but the typical ghost stories, he told Nathaniel, monks walled up in the nave and despoiled nuns killing themselves on the altar and such. "I’ll come up with a chilling tale for our benefactor overnight, and we’ll give him a bit of a thrill in exchange for his money in the morning."

"I look forward to hearing it." There was a small part of Nathaniel that missed seeing Justin at work, no matter how much he tried not to admit it. He’d been _good_ at what he did, and while he’d proven equally talented as an enquiry agent, that provided fewer opportunities for observation. "A mad monk, perhaps?"

Justin grinned. "We’ll see where the night takes us."

The air inside the chapel made Nathaniel’s nose burn. Dust, and years left unoccupied. He sneezed, the sound echoing off the stone walls.

Nathaniel wouldn’t have thought that Justin would be much bothered by a musty old room. He was born and raised in London, as he so often reminded Nathaniel, and it was the clean country air that didn’t agree with him. But Justin had been seized by coughing as soon as they entered the church, and now he was leaning forward with his hands on his thighs and his face going red.

"Are you--"

Justin waved him away, letting out a horrid wheeze. "I’m fine," he said, gasping. "Where to first?"

The chapel had a crypt, a worn set of stairs leading down from behind the pulpit. That seemed as good a place as any to begin, since neither of them intended to spend the night sitting in the entryway and waiting for something to happen. Justin guarded his candle and watched his feet, and Nathaniel watched Justin. Despite what he’d said, it was clear that Justin wasn’t all right. Nathaniel knew him too well to think that asking would do anything, but he could watch. Justin would notice the watching, but there wasn’t much Justin _wouldn’t_ notice.

The crypt was dark and the air was thick with dust, far worse than the chapel had been, but Justin’s cough didn’t return. He passed through the crypt at nearly a run, coming to a stop in some far corner of the grave markers. He knelt and pressed his fingers to the writing, stirring up a fresh cloud of dust.

"Do you know them?" Nathaniel asked, crouching down beside Justin.

"I don’t…" Justin trailed off, shaking his head. The writing was nearly worn away, only the ghosts of letters remaining, but Justin’s fingers traced a pattern that only he could see. "His name was Theobald."

It would certainly fit in with what little of the inscription remained. "No need to start the show yet," Nathaniel said, although he had the sinking feeling that this wasn’t a show at all.

Justin turned, but his eyes stared out over Nathaniel’s shoulder instead of meeting his face. "Stay the _fuck_ away from me," he snarled, glaring at something Nathaniel couldn’t see. Then he sank to a seat, leaning heavily against the wall. "Nathaniel, either I’m going mad or there’s something here."

Nathaniel sat beside him, wrapping his arms around Justin’s shoulders. "Say the word, and we leave."

"Whichever is the case, it can’t hurt me." The way Justin’s fingers ghosted across his throat belied that statement. "As soon as we came here, I could see him. I _was_ him, in robes in this place when it was new. I could feel us suffocating, together, but it stopped. I think it will keep stopping, if he gets near me again." Justin attempted a grin. "And we’ve been handed our story, haven’t we?"

"I don’t like it." Nathaniel could have promised him an equal sum, papered it over as a reward for finally convincing skeptic Nathaniel Roy that his lover was communing with spirits, but it wasn’t the money that had Justin hooked. He wouldn’t be able to bring himself to back down from the challenge. "Can I at least convince you to come back upstairs?"

Justin leaned heavily on Nathaniel as he stood, his face pale and his hands shaking. Nathaniel found himself uneasily reminded of their first time at his manor, Justin in his arms after he’d feared they would both die. But Justin wouldn’t leave, and Nathaniel wouldn’t leave without him. They scaled the stairs slowly, and had begun to make their way across the chapel when Justin fell to his knees.

At another time, it might have been arousing, Justin on his knees at the rotted pulpit with the same martyred saint look on his face that had first drawn Nathaniel to him. But that had been an act, and Nathaniel knew in his gut that this was not. Justin winced, and something behind them began to glow.

Nathaniel only saw a vague shape, the suggestion of a body. Justin’s eyes widened, and his words, when they came, were tremulous. "It was a warning."

"We’re leaving, money be damned." Nathaniel grabbed at Justin’s arm, and found his hand slapped away.

Justin opened his mouth, and when he spoke, his voice was not his own. "A valiant attempt, Theobald." The words hung wrong in the air, making Nathaniel’s head ache. There was an overlay, something strange and foreign underneath what he heard. "It’s been so long since I’ve had visitors. Nathaniel, is it? And your Justin. Oh, he’s an interesting mind." Justin – no, not Justin – ran his hand through his hair, a horrible sharp grin spreading across his face. "Not happy with this at all, is he?"

"Let him go!" Nathaniel ran to Justin’s side, but Justin’s hand grabbed his arm with a grip strong as iron and held him in place.

"I don’t think I shall." Justin’s hand reached up to brush against Nathaniel’s face, a mockery of their usual touches, and Nathaniel saw.

_There was a monk kneeling in the chapel, lips mouthing silent prayers, and a man standing silent behind him. The other man slipped a band around the monk’s throat, pulling it taut. The monk gasped and struggled, flailing in a vain attempt to get a grasp on the man strangling him. After an eternity of agony, he fell still, and the man let his body come to rest on the pew, stroking a hand over the angry red line across his throat._

_A scream rang out, and another monk ran in. The killer hadn’t been expecting him, and before he could fight back, there were several monks on him, holding him down. They dragged him out of the chapel, kicking and screaming, down to the crypt. There were more screams, then a deep silence._

_Then Nathaniel was in the crypt, watching the monks drag the killer’s body toward a stone coffin. The killer’s head lolled to the side, knocking against the floor with every movement. The monks strained to lift the lid off of the coffin, then slung the killer’s body into it. They left but Nathaniel was held there, until muffled screams began to emanate from the coffin. The screams went on and on and on, until they stopped, leaving a sickening silence._

"They brought me to justice," the man puppeting Justin said, a sarcastic twist on the last word, "but couldn’t stand up to the consequences of their actions. A few deaths in the night and they abandoned this building, leaving me alone here. Theobald and his brothers are poor company, but the story of the curse kept most people away. You’re the first guests I’ve had in centuries. The brothers burned my tools, but I think we can make do." He grinned again, twisting Justin’s mouth into something fierce and foul, and locked Justin’s arms around Justin’s own throat.

Nathaniel tried to tear Justin’s hands away, but they were locked around his neck with an unnatural strength. Justin gasped and struggled, the rictus grin still slashed across his face.

The light behind Justin flickered, and the ghost of a scream echoed through the chapel as it dove towards Justin. Justin’s grip loosened, just for a moment, long enough for Nathaniel to scoop him up in his arms and run for the door. Justin kicked out against Nathaniel’s grip, and Nathaniel would be left with bruises tomorrow, but they made it to the door. As soon as they slammed onto the street, Justin collapsed limp into Nathaniel’s arms.

Nathaniel drew him close, heedless of anyone who might be watching, and sank to a seat.

"Nat," Justin whispered, voice hoarse.

Nathaniel pulled him closer, unable to summon up coherent words.

"Can’t tell. Is it...dawn?"

Nathaniel couldn’t help but laugh. "All that, and you ask after the money? I’m about ready to finish that bastard’s job, Justin."


End file.
